A moment later, the thick wooden doors surged open and the draft became a plume of cool air that sucked any warmth from the space and the comfort right out of my body. I’d been expecting a meeting room—an opportunity to get my bearings and prepare myself for whatever this event entailed.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Because just beyond the threshold lay endless gray sky. And below that charcoal swath were hundreds of people, seated in quiet rows that curved inward and disappeared past the edges of the doorframe.
My lungs emptied, and I struggled to fill them.
What was this?
A thick leg stepped into view, followed by a black-clad body. Aric blinked at me. “Waiting for something?” he asked pleasantly.
Again, I tried to inhale. This time, I took in enough air to respond. “What’s going on?”
My eyes darted to the audience that formed a backdrop behind him. From here, I couldn’t make out their eyes, but if I could see their shapes, they could certainly see me.
And you’re just awkwardly standing here.
“Come out and see.” A wink followed his invitation. “Don’t worry. Your Princeps is here.”
I hated that I took comfort in that.
Forcing my limbs to move, I watched the rows of people grow longer as I hesitantly stepped through the entrance and my field of vision expanded. It was as if this were some sort of coliseum. A thick stone balustrade behind Aric prevented me from seeing the grounds in the center of it all.
“You’re a fascinating, beautiful sight. But they aren’t watching you,” Aric reassured.
I hardly heard him, too busy cataloguing my surroundings. Where I stood was more of a covered terrace than a stage, a slanted stone ceiling shading us from what would have been sunlight decades ago. The doors had deposited me at the side of the space. To my right were a roaring firepit and three stepped rows of tall, upholstered chairs, clearly designed for nobility and esteemed guests. A handful of people milled around them, including Torr and the man I couldn’t handle facing until my chest stopped feeling so suffocatingly tight.
With that noted, I dared to address the scene beyond the balustrade, and I realized that Aric hadn’t been comforting me with a lie. The people’s attention wasn’t on the terrace, but the ground before them.
My heartbeat quieted enough for me to make out the muted thud of collision, followed by the clank of metal on metal.
The familiar melody of battle.
I spared Aric a wary look before stepping up to the banister. Two men, wearing only black scaled pants and boots, faced off in a brutal fight. Blood ran a crimson river down the back of one, wide muscles heaving as he lifted a sword high in the air. The other figure sported no blood but was covered in dust from the ground. He deflected the first man’s strike with a tired defense and countered with his own swipe of the blade.
“What is this?” I flinched as metal nearly met its mark. Soldiers lined the walls of the arena, their composure rigid. Above them, onlookers sat calmly, observing the fight with quiet interest as if these two men weren’t trading mortal blows. As if one of them wasn’t going to die the moment a blade found its target.
Aric’s father had killed people for sport, and Aric claimed he was different. But this? This…this wasbarbaric.
“Watch.” Aric sidled up beside me. Leaning on the balustrade, he jerked his chin toward the two men. “The closest man, the one with the blood, is going to win. His friend there has exhausted himself too early. It’s a trait I’ve told him to work on, and today, it’s going to be his downfall.”
The non-bloodied man stumbled back, his exhaustion evident. His opponent capitalized on the opportunity, driving forward with a brutal strike that he barely deflected.
“Is this another one of your indulgences?” I said, accusation dripping from the question.
He pursed his lips. “This? I wouldn’t call it an indulgence.” A grin stole the sincerity of that statement. “Though I am entertained.”
I didn’t think Aric was a good man, but I didn’t paint him as bad as…as what this looked like. “If it isn’t an indulgence, then what is it?”
“A necessity.”
I scoffed.
His amusement faded as he gestured before us. “See the people watching? The soldiers lining the walls? They aren’t cheering. They aren’t betting. They aren’t jumping from their seats, despite the excitement here.”
“You’re telling me things I already know. Tell me—” Steel struck true. The tired man fell to the ground, blood spurting from a slice to his side. Clumsily, he rolled to his feet, favoring his injury. “Tell me what it is Idon’tknow.”
This man was going to die, and from the slump of his shoulders and the hang of his head, he knew it. He was going to die, and we were all just going to stand here and watch it happen.
